Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“I mean, here, right now?” I asked. “I’d find a scary person who you know you can trust with your child.”
“Like who, though?”
I thought about it for a second and then said, “That guy that recently made the national news. He’s a crazy dangerous millionaire. From some crime syndicate?”
“I saw some millionaire make the news recently,” Jolessa said, eyes thoughtful. “He spent years and years looking for his kidnapped sister and never gave up the search to find her.”
“You’d know that he’d watch out for your baby.” I nodded in agreement. “And has the means to pay for protection.”
“That’s all too fantastical.” Jolessa rolled her eyes. “Nothing like that ever happens in real life. You’d get caught, then suffer more. What’s the point in leaving?”
“Saving your unborn child from certain death?” I offered up sarcastically.
She waved that away. “It’s a book. It’s just drama for drama’s sake.”
I didn’t think this was all made up. I thought maybe this was Viveka trying to get some advice without actually outright asking for it.
“What is?”
I smiled at my boyfriend, Rupert, as he came into the room. “Hey, Ru.”
“Ru-Ru,” Jolessa chirped, smiling so wide at him that I rolled my eyes. Those two and their weird, quirky relationship. “Why don’t you give us your opinion?”
“What opinion would that be?” he asked as he came to sit between Jolessa and me instead of just taking the free seat on my side.
Jolessa laughed and scooted over.
I didn’t scoot over, but I did lean into his warmth.
He didn’t put his arm around me like I expected, but then he covered it up by reaching for his lunch that was still dangling from his shoulder.
“If you were trying to save your baby from an abusive father situation, what would you do? Try to run, or try to stay home and work it out?”
Rupert unzipped his lunch box and said, “I guess I’d need to know more details.”
I sighed.
Rupert and his details.
By the end of the discussion, Rupert and Jolessa were in agreement. The woman couldn’t run.
After lunch was over, and Viveka and I were walking toward the senior hallway, I said, “I’d run, Viveka. I wouldn’t give it a second thought. I’d find the scariest man that I knew, and I’d beg him for help.”
Her eyes met mine, and I wondered if this was a book scenario at all.
She smiled, patted my hand, and said, “Thanks for everything, Brecken.”
I watched her go and had a sinking feeling in my gut.
The next morning, when the news of Viveka’s resignation spread like wildfire among students and staff, I knew.
She was scared and running, taking my advice.
Which broke my heart.
Some people won’t admit their faults. I would if I had any.
—Shasha to Maven
SHASHA
“Listen,” Cayden McCloud, head of the Irish Mafia in Houston, said. “I don’t give a fuck. Get your men off of my turf.”
I rolled my eyes. “Cayden, we’ve played this game before. It’s getting old.”
“I don’t really give a flying feck,” his Irish brogue deepened.
That brogue that only came out when he got lazy, and forgot to contain his accent.
“Cayden,” I sighed. “Listen. I know you don’t want me there. Hell, I don’t want to be there. But we’re looking for a couple of men that have disappeared. Lev led me to a set of warehouses that are in the district that you literally don’t control. Foreskin controls it.”
Lev was my expert with computers. He’d learned from the fuckin’ best and had a vendetta against all things straight and narrow.
He’d spent the last eight years locked up for a crime he didn’t commit, and the moment he got out, he’d come to find me, letting me know that if the offer was still there, he’d take me up on it.
That offer had been extended years ago when I’d lived on the East Coast, not Dallas, but I’d still taken him on.
I liked a good second chance. I liked it more when they wanted nothing to do with the law because it served my purpose better.
“The Forsaken,” he corrected me.
“Whatever,” I grumbled, feeling the beginnings of a headache between my eyes. “I literally don’t care. I’m not anywhere near your turf. If I was, I’d have called to let you know that I was near it.”
“You know that my turf now extends to The Highlands,” he complained.
“I know, but I’m not anywhere near The Highlands. I’m almost to fuckin’ Galveston, for Christ’s sake,” I said. “I’m just following up with my contacts that show that their last known location was there. I’ll be out of Houston as soon as I check out this lead.”
“No you won’t,” he grumbled. “Hey, you want to go to a golf tournament next week? I was invited to one at the Cowboy Golf Course next weekend, and you’re the only one I know that can play golf.”